Car Stories - Scary Rides

Gardenlover

Gardenlover

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Tell us about the scary rides you've encountered. :eek:

Two come to mind for me.

An older buddy was in the car with me, which was my 73 Mustang Mach 1 - the engine had been rebuilt to street race. The friend sitting shotgun was a big MOPAR fan and his cars were fast. At the time he had a GTX with a 440 six pack, I couldn't touch his cars. He was goading me into showing me what the "little pony car" had under the hood. I was hesitant, but peer pressure got the best of me. We were driving through an industrial park where we drag raced late at night on the weekends, when I foolishly took the bait. It was around 8 PM during the middle of the week. We were doing over a hundred twenty when a car pulled out in front of us, turned wide and took up both lanes, I seriously don't think he even saw us coming. Mustangs are not the best handling cars by any means, I hit the brakes hard and we ended up going every which way but straight. I lost control of the car, jumped a curb and ended up in a factory parking lot with two bend rims. I was lucky that was the only casualty. My a^& ho$% friend laughed his a&^ off. It was the last time I can remember giving in to peer pressure.

Second incident was much more benign, but immensely scarier. Just after graduating high school I lost an eye due to a fireworks accident; a bottle rocket had my name on it. A year or so after recovering I was driving home from work from a local steel yard (same car - maybe it was jinxed). I had the windows down and was jamming to the radio, doing around 40 MPH when a bug or something hit me in the good eye and I couldn't see a thing. Luckily, I didn't freak out and slowly came to a stop. When I could see again, I was just inches from hitting the guard rail. I started wearing glasses after that.

P.S. Don't feel sorry about the eye, doing stupid shi% has consequences, and it's become rather a party favor. :devilish:
 

Gardenlover said:
Tell us about the scary rides you've encountered
Click to expand...

OK, Pard...you asked

Both are of length...but scary rides, none the less;


Lindsey

From months of bucking hay and picking berries, beans, and whatever I could get hold of, at 14 I bought a car.

My first.

’54 Chevy
$300

When you save your money in a cigar box for several months, taking it out, counting, fondling, stacking, fanning it out like a hand of gin rummy, then putting it back under the bed, w-a-a-a-a-y under, and you make a major purchase, your object of worship is gone…gone I say…just an empty cigar box with only the faint scent of cheap cigars and a hint of the smell of soft currency once soaked in the sweat of your front Levi pocket.
There are few words to describe the emptiness.
Maybe ‘bereft’.

I’d had this same experience at 12, getting my 30-30, but $79.50 from Western Auto was not the same as giving over a summer of work in one fell swoop.

The following summer I got a job hoeing roses for a famous, prize winning rosegrower that had several acres of (you guessed it) roses at the end of a gravelroad on top of the hill we lived on.
So, before sunup I’d make myself lunch, make coffee for the thermos and breakfast, fire up the green hornet and bomb up the hill, taking switch back after switchback…. sideways.
Then proceed to get ahead start on a degenerative back by hoeing roses for 10 hours.
One Friday I’d gotten a call from a pretty little girl that I’d met.
Not as beautiful as my lady now, but beyond cute…really really cute, evenp retty….her smile did funny things to my heart.
So Sunday I approached dad.

‘Hey, ol’ man. I wanna go to church with this girl.’

‘Well, what’s stoppin’ ya?’

‘She lives on the other side of Portland.’

‘You want me to drive you to the other side of Portland?!’

‘Uh, no.
I’d like to drive my car.’

(Mom)
‘ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!’

‘I’d be careful.’
‘And, (the coupe de grace) can I borrow grampa’s bible?’

‘You better be careful, cause if you get in an accident, they’re comin’ after me.’

‘Thanksdadbye.’

Mom said something, rather sputtered something, but I was already bombin’ down the drive.
Can’t recall the jaunt over the St Johns Bridge or the rest of the twenty miles.

Lindsey jumped in and we headed down the country lane to a park.
On the way, she was all over me.
I gave a thought to just pull over into the ditch, but maintained my James Bond nonchalant approach and returned her kisses, French kisses,
my first,
in my car,
driving,
For some reason, even beyond the control of my crotch, my mind relished in the sensation of tongue wrestling with this lovely being, and not on keeping in my lane…or on the road even.
It wouldn’t have mattered much to look where I was goin’ because my eyeballs were rolled back in my head.

Then a funny thing happened.

Somewhere deep in my semi consciousness, I heard trumpets blowing.
(So this is what Brad was telling me about…)
But while trying to gather my fuzzy thoughts, I had a flash back of a song that was getting popular….Leader of the Pack had a girl yelling ‘LOOK OUT, LOOK OUT,LOOK OUT!!’, then screeching tires.
Only it was Linda yelling, and the trumpet was a car horn, and the tires were those of the car in front of us.
I just remember two old couples, dressed for church, mouths open, arms waving.

I swerved.
Our rear quarter panels met.
Hard.
A sickening crunch.

My rear view mirror revealed them just sittin’ there in the middle of the road…sideways….gettin’ smaller and smaller as I floored the little chevy.
Lindsey didn’t say much when I dropped her off, but a few days later I got a letter.
My first.

I drove into the drive and parked behind the garage.
My story was that there was black ice on a corner and I slid into the guardrail.
He bought it.

I sweated blood for weeks after that, waiting for cops to haul my dad off in hand cuffs…leaving me with mom.
It never happened, but every time I got in my car, I got a little sick to my stomach.
I told him the real story three decades later.
We both had a good laugh over it.
Together.
Not at each other, but with each other.
My first.


#2;

As usual, I rose before ol’ sol this morn

Stood on the porch

Sipping java

Sol took its sweet time

Grabbed a chair

It’s probably my favorite time of day

Light, ever so gradually but insistently pushing the darkness to the nether side

Thoughts drifted

Recalled a hot car I drove a bit
A souped up E type ’68 Jag
As if a 12 banger engine with three SU carbs wasn’t enough

‘Borrowed’ it from a loudmouth taking up space in my favorite watering hole

He kept bragging about his vocation;
Hustling wealthy gay guys
Ex-cons pursue the laziest, most absurd careers

Anyway, after a bit of a credibility challenge, he handed me the keys to ‘take it for a spin’

No room for him, as my buddy George needed to occupy the passenger seat

Got it on the freeway to Lake Houston

Opened it up a bit

Cruised thru the gentle turns at around 120-140 mph

Came up beside a ‘vette

We passed each other a couple times

Things became competitive

At around 150 or more, I noticed his lady visibly ragging on him

Away he went

Outa sight

In my rear view mirror




Pegged the speedo at 160

It kept accelerating

Floated over a rise in the inside lane

Not very far ahead was a stalled car

…and a lady standing behind it, franticly waving her arms

The steering on the Jag was quite responsive

Twitch twitch of the wheel and we were around them

Things happen rather fast at that rate of speed

George, while putting on his harness, asked somewhat adamantly if I was ‘gonna slow this thing down’

I did, while putting on my own harness

I could smell the heat of hot oil coming off the engine as I eased it down to 120, then 100, then 80

I could also smell the distinct aroma of what seemed more than a fart

I didn’t question George, but he needed to ‘get home’ straight away


Took the Jag back to the bar

The engine making that ticking noise as it sat there, cooling down the wrong way

Found out the hustler had put a contract on me, as I’d taken a bit too long

Heh, $100

Dum bass

My bar

My friends

They’d have done if for $50
 
The scariest car ride I ever had was when I was 5. My mother was driving a '50's Chevy. I was in the front seat, eating a candy bar. I don't know what caused her to hit the curb, but the car flipped over & I ended up on the floor, rolled up in a ball. I couldn't move because I was wedged between the floor & the seat on my back with my legs tucked under me.
When paramedics arrived, one of them stuck his head in the window & asked me if I was hurt.
I said, "No."
He asked, "Why are you crying?"
I said, "I can't find my candy bar."

The second scariest car ride was when I was around 7. My dad had some type of door-to-door sales job. Sometimes, he'd take me with him & I'd wait in the car - an old DeSoto. It wasn't very smart of him because he knew I liked to play with every knob & switch in the car.
He parked on a hill & before he got out of the car, he told me not to touch anything. Yeah......real smart, dad.
First thing I did was push that starter button. It made the whole car shake like those little rides in front of grocery stores.
Then I played with that pull-out parking brake. It sprung forward & the car started to roll down the hill....faster & faster. I jumped into the back seat. It went over the curb & slammed into a tree on the sidewalk. Lucky no one was killed.
 

win231 said:
When paramedics arrived, one of them stuck his head in the window & asked me if I was hurt.
I said, "No."
He asked, "Why are you crying?"
I said, "I can't find my candy bar."
Click to expand...

Good thing I wasn't drinking anything, I would have messed up my computer. 😸
 
OK, here come two:

1. In my last year of college, my best buddy asked me if I wanted to drive his new Vette. T-top was open, car was growling. Oh, hell yeah, let's go! We hit the Dan Ryan Expressway, in two minutes, heading north.

Less than thirty seconds later, a red VW bug cut me off. Not being used to race car tight steering, I wayyyyyy oversteered. The Vette went far left, then chased its tail, as we did a 360 into the back wall of an on ramp. No seatbelts! We came to rest facing the way we had been heading. The brand new Vette was crumpled up like some toy. That fiberglass front had taken the impact and saved our lives.

This old cop came on the scene. We were towed to an open lot on Skid Row. My buddy and the cop walked off, money was handed out, and that was that. No ticket, no hassle.

I started paying monthly on the gap in the insurance. Less than a year later, at my wedding, my buddy, my Best Man, forgave the rest of the debt. Cool.

2. Driving home from an out of town gig, 2 AM. Something had told me to pack our rental van tightly. Our gear, in pro quality road cases, was wedged to the ceiling, behind us. My keyboardist was driving. My sax player and drummer were seated on either side of me, on a frame couch, behind the two front seats. No seat belts for the couch. This was a cargo van. My guitarist was riding shotgun.

Outside of San Antonio, on the loop around downtown, this kid fell asleep in his car, behind us. He hit us, waking me and my couch buddies up. My keyboardist lost control of the van. It was heading towards the right, and down a steep hill. She turned sharp left. The van flipped onto its top. We all did 180's, in place. We were now sliding down the expressway, in the right direction, at about sixty miles an hour, sitting on the ceiling. I watched as the windshield imploded, from the pressure of the chassis, now above us. Sparks were shooting everywhere. Miraculously, the cases in back kept the chassis from crushing us.

We slid about 400'. When we stopped, my drummer kicked out the side panel window, and we got out. I used my pocket knife to cut my guitarist out of his seat belt. My keyboardist sat on the side of the road. Her neck was partially fractured. She had to have spinal fusion.

A Good Samaritan came to our aid, loaded our equipment, drove us to Austin. My keyboardist was rushed to a San Antonio hospital. She recovered, fully, thankfully. We never learned what happened to the kid behind us.

The preceding was enough vehicle driving excitement for my lifetime, this time around!
 
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mine was when I lived in south Africa jo'burg'--we spent a afternoon with friends- his mother and father had a e/type jag
both worked as doctors over there -so the son said ile take you for a ride in it - well to be honest its a wonder iam alive writing this lol
he showed off how fast it would go on dirt track road- I had to tell him to stop it and take me back - I felt so ill after the scare
just a bloody idiot ……..
 
My mother in her later days was a scary ride. When driving, she would literally turn her head around with her eyes leaving the road to point out things that she wanted you to be looking at. She once fell asleep while driving alone; the blare of a horn jolted her awake. Refusing to cease driving, my sister and I lived in fear that she would end her life in a major accident, perhaps causing the deaths of others. Fortunately we were able to get her committed to assisted living before this happened...

Mother was a scary passenger, too. She would criticize the performance of the driver, applying imaginary brakes on the passenger side, crying out things like "didn't you see that car?!," and appearing ready as she'd tense her body for impact or to jump out the door. Whoever drove her would be rendered a nervous wreck... o_O
 
Y'all had your guardian angels working overtime! I never had anything nearly that scary happen, thankfully.

I haven't ever been seasick or carsick, but a couple years ago we were driving to Lost Maples, and the country road we were on ran alongside and over the Guadalupe River. The river meanders, and the road meandered even more. DH seemed to be in a hurry, and we were whipping around those curves pretty fast. I began to feel woozie. I asked him to slow down. He did, briefly. Asked again. Nuthin'. Told him I was feeling uncomfortable. He gave his usual response when he thinks I'm over reacting, "Just relax." I finally told him if he didn't slow down I was going to throw up and I'd aim it in his direction. He got the message.
 
CarolfromTX said:
Y'all had your guardian angels working overtime! I never had anything nearly that scary happen, thankfully.

I haven't ever been seasick or carsick, but a couple years ago we were driving to Lost Maples, and the country road we were on ran alongside and over the Guadalupe River. The river meanders, and the road meandered even more. DH seemed to be in a hurry, and we were whipping around those curves pretty fast. I began to feel woozie. I asked him to slow down. He did, briefly. Asked again. Nuthin'. Told him I was feeling uncomfortable. He gave his usual response when he thinks I'm over reacting, "Just relax." I finally told him if he didn't slow down I was going to throw up and I'd aim it in his direction. He got the message.
Click to expand...
Lost Maples is a great park. Great hiking, and the trees look really good in their Fall colors.
 
I went to Jersey to visit my second mom. Long story short, I went to a family cook out and rode back with two friends. The driver had been drinking and drove. My other friend rode in the front seat with him which was his uncle. He was swerving a bit, I was soooo scared. I prayed the entire ride back to my mom house.
 

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